Many Faces of Love
by Alexandra Lynch
Summary: A Valentine's Challenge story. Set in the Angels Will Fall universe, follows "Challenges." Helps if you've read the others first.


Author's Note: This is set in the same universe as my Angels Will Fall storyarc, and follows the last one, Challenges. It was written for an HG/GW list challenge for February 2003.  
It was Valentine's Day next week.  
  
Hermione sighed and rolled over in bed, irritably wishing for her own bed back at the Burrow. A bed which, to be honest, was shared about half the time with Ginny Weasley. Not all the time, of course. For someone so small, Ginny was an amazingly adept blanket thief, and, well, at certain times of the month Hermione didn't want to be in her own skin, let alone have anyone touch her. But about now a languid sleepy Ginny would be just the thing to deal with her mind that wouldn't shut up and let her sleep. Ginny had a way of...distracting Hermione. Hermione grinned reminiscently.  
  
Of course, she wouldn't be HAVING this problem if it weren't for Ginny, one could say. It was that whole issue...what did she expect, what could she do, what was right and it wasn't like one of them was a guy cause then it would be clear what to do, and....gahhh, there went her mind again! Hermione huffed in annoyance, and then rolled over in bed. Well, was Ginny the type to expect something? Not anything big. Although, Ginny was a big fan of chocolate. GOOD chocolate. Hermione made a mental note. Surely Cadbury understood about Valentine's Day and did some chocolate in a heart- shaped box....That would work. And a card at breakfast. Not, she thought with a shudder, one of those goddamned singing cards. Something nice. Surely there was something in Hogsmeade. And with that comforting thought, Hermione went to sleep.  
Across the castle, another girl rolled over in bed, image of him before her eyes. He was so handsome... she was coming off lucky, she knew that much. Although she had enough pride to ignore comments, she was well aware she'd win no beauty contests, and had watched with envy as other girls' bosoms developed into twin hills that made the boys forget what they were saying. But for all that maturity squared her figure into one that got sniggering jests, she had good broad hips, and her mother had comforted her with stories of how easy birth was for their family, how easily she had fallen pregnant. And, the girl thought, rolling over in bed, she had money, and connections. And they had her the promise of a husband. Next summer, they'd marry.  
  
She smiled. Easy to love someone so fair and bright and brilliant. Easy to admire and worship him. And he was like her, and so he would understand the issues of pride and keeping up appearances and the loneliness of position that no one else did. It would be all right.  
  
She remembered her mother's smile at the winter holidays, when she'd mentioned that next year she'd be at his parents' house at this time, and felt a warm rush of happiness inside. It prompted an idea.  
  
They were engaged, and Valentine's Day was next week. She didn't expect anything from him...he wasn't one for emotional displays... but, well, she WOULD send him a valentine. Not something silly that sang, or said anything too wild...but it was something small she could do.  
  
The conclusion calmed her mind, and amidst happy visions of life after school, she drifted off to sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
"D'you think these would be all right, Hermione?" Ron asked her, picking up a package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that had been colored in pinks and whites and reds, with a promise on the label that the flavors were "Valentine flavors". What's a valentine flavor anyway? she thought, and sighed at Ron.  
  
"NO, Ron, unless you know she likes them already. Does she?"  
  
"Well, she never said she didn't," he said hopefully, and Hermione sighed, looking around the shop. How had she got into this?  
  
Doing a favor for a friend was how, she knew that already. Because she really couldn't help it when Ron turned Ginny's puppy-dog eyes on her, and, it was no more than the truth. Ron had not the faintest idea what he was doing.  
  
Hermione had had it. "Come on, " she said to Ron, hauling him out of Honeydukes and down to Madam Rosmerta's, where she ordered two butterbeers and plunked one down in front of him.  
  
"Now look. Is Sylvia a traditional girl?" she demanded.  
  
He laughed. "Not hardly."  
  
"Well, why are you trying to come up with traditional stuff?"  
  
Ron looked a little defensive. "Well, she IS my girlfriend, and, well....I bet you're giving Ginny chocolate."  
  
"Ginny likes chocolate, Ron. Giving Ginny chocolate is frequently a defensive move, or hadn't you learned that yet? That's irrelevant. Does Sylvia like candy?"  
  
"Nah," he said. "She's more into pizza and beer while we dissect spells."  
  
"So why not give her something she needs there, something she wants but won't get for herself?"  
  
Ron thought a moment, and his eyes lit up. "Okay, Hermione, I've got it now. It's not so hard, really, if I think about it. And I'll send her a card at breakfast."  
  
"Just....Ron....? Make sure it doesn't sing," she said with a pained expression.  
  
* * *  
  
"Ow," said Ginny, faintly, to Hermione, under the cover of the tinkly off- key cacophany of singing cards that permeated the Great Hall. It sounded like ten thousand drunken pixies.  
  
"What?" Hermione asked her, staring at her eggs as if they were going to bite her. This was not unwarranted. Eggs, in Hermione's opinion, should be yellow and white and cooked just enough that the yolks ran for dipping toast in. They should not be red and pink, and they should not be heart- shaped. Neither should her sausages. Even the oatmeal was pink, and to avoid looking at it, she looked at Ginny.  
  
"Professor Flitwick's tie, for Merlin's sake," Ginny said, waving a fork toward the head table. It was, Hermione had to admit, a rather repellent shade of fluorescent pink not normally found in nature. "Did you see the Fat Lady?" Hermione asked in return, and Ginny shuddered and nodded.  
  
"I don't know who told her she'd look good as the Queen of Hearts, and done up like a playing card at that, but....gods." They both shuddered again at the memory of the Fat Lady costumed in every shade of red and pink, all of which clashed, painfully. But just then the owl dropped a fat bundle of letters into Hermione's lap, and she managed to forget about the Fat Lady as she went through them.  
  
Hermione's mail consisted of a valentine from her father, which she smilingly shared with Ginny, cards from Harry and Ron, professing friendship (Ron's card had sung until she hexed the blasted thing), and a card from Ginny that made her turn red as her girlfriend's hair. Harry grabbed it out of her limp hand, and read enough to turn him scarlet and stare at Ginny with equal parts amazement and reluctant admiration. Just then, Hermione grabbed it back, and stuffed it into her bag.  
  
"Hey!" protested Ron, "Let me see!"  
  
"No, you don't want to," Harry said. "She's your sister. Your mind doesn't need to go there."  
  
Ron stared at Ginny until she yelped and hid her face behind her napkin, his face giving evidence that he was thinking very hard about what she'd written in that card. Hermione made a mental note to lock it in her room before they had class together.  
  
"Hey," Harry said suddenly, staring across the room toward the Slytherin tables, "What's up over there?"  
  
It was a good question. Draco Malfoy was staring at a letter in his hand. It was in a pale pink envelope, and he was holding it as if he had recieved a bomb. He was looking angrily around him, and talking to a low voice to Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom were looking baffled and shaking their heads. He looked over at Avery, and got the same response. He swept his gaze over the table, said something with a glare, shoved the envelope in his bag, and stomped out.  
  
"Who'd send HIM a valentine?" Ron said, and got a deathly glare from Ginny. After the events of last fall, Malfoy was not a topic brought up in Hermione's hearing.  
  
"I...don't think I'm hungry," said Hermione, shoving away the plate bearing allegedly edible items, and stood, Ginny with her.  
  
"Okay, if you aren't, I am," said Ron, already pulling Hermione's discarded plate over and dipping a pink muffin into the egg. His comment of "See you in class" was muffled by a mouth full of food.  
Ginny had a paper to finish, and so they parted at the foot of the stairs. Hermione considered heading back up to her room and putting away the truly incendiary card from Ginny, but she really didn't want to face the vision of holiday spirit that was the Fat Lady, or deal with any misguided people who couldn't believe she and Ginny could possibly wish to Be Apart On Such A Romantic Day. It might be a "Romantic Day", but they still had classes, and she wasn't about to get herself behind just because of a holiday.  
  
Fortunately, her first class was Potions, and it could be guaranteed that the Potions classroom would be totally unencumbered with hearts, flowers, lace, tinny singing of romantic verse, or any other annoyances. Bless Snape's annoyingly sarcastic and nasty heart, she thought. And since hers was the first class of the day, she could slip in and just get her day organized (something she normally did over breakfast in the great hall) in peace and quiet and blessed normality.  
  
Except the room was already occupied.  
  
She stopped, peering in the doorway and silently observing the scene before her. There was a figure sitting in one of the seats...a familiar one, tall and lean, with a tail of white-blond hair neatly down its back, and it was...crying?  
  
Yes, it was. Harsh sobs that were coming from the throat of someone who never cried, shaking his shoulders, which were hunched as if he expected a blow. What the hell? she thought, and looked at the card on the desk. It looked pretty conventional, nothing that impressive.  
  
She decided to shuffle her feet and bang the door as she went in, and by the time she had set her bag down he had managed to pull himself together.  
  
He had apparently decided the best defence was a good attack. "What the hell are you doing here, Granger?"  
  
"Same as you, finding somewhere away from all the singing cards and stuff," she said, dropping into her seat, and twisting in it to face him. "Drives me nuts, personally."  
  
"Yeah, me too," he said, and she was surprised. Since the events of last October, he'd actively avoided her. Then again, it had taken him til mid- November to stop the twitching, an after-effect of multiple sessions of torture, much to his rage and embarassment. She wasn't angry at him any more, really. Pitied him, a bit.  
  
The card still lay there on his desk.  
  
"Who's the valentine from?"  
  
He snorted, trying to brave it out. "Parkinson. Silly thing of her to do, considering."  
  
"Considering?"  
  
"Ever heard of arranged marriages, Granger?" he said with a sharp tone to his voice. "We've been engaged since we were in our third years here. Silly thing decided she's in love with me to boot."  
  
He scowled at the card.  
  
"Doesn't that make things easier?" Hermione ventured.  
  
"Hardly. I don't exactly return the lady's feelings," he said with sarcasm. "She's not at all my sort. Except in her bloodline, and her money."  
  
"Doesn't sound like much to build on to me, " Hermione said thoughtfully, thinking of her parents' dissolving marriage, the way in which her grandmother had spoken of her grandfather, the Weasley's happy comfort in each other, and her own relationship.  
  
"It's not. But it's what is." His light grey eyes were dark with unhappiness, and his face looked pinched. "More than some people get...same house at school, and our parents have had us in the same room numerous times as we grew up. I just hope she'll get over this love bullshit and be sensible."  
  
He sighed, looked at the card again, and shoved it in his bag.  
  
"You might want to do something about your eyes, " Hermione said in a neutral tone, and he sighed again.  
  
"Curse of being this damn fair. Hang on," he said, and murmured a charm at himself. "That do it? I don't have a mirror to ask."  
  
"Yeah," she said.  
  
He almost visibly pulled his aloof mask back on, and said, in his normal drawling tones, "Leave me alone, Granger, or people'll think you're straight."  
  
She got out her papers and put everything in order, and thought about the many things that all got called "love".  
* * *  
Hermione and Ginny met that evening in Hermione's room, and Ginny proved that she meant what she had said in the card. She had some interesting theories about eating chocolate, too, and the shower afterward was a lot of fun.  
  
Harry looked at his Valentines, pinned on the cork board above his bed, and smiled, and turned back to his studies. He rubbed his scar, and told himself, "Someday..."  
  
Sylvia squealed with joy in a very un-Sylvia-like manner when Ron gave her the Dicta-Quill, Arithmancy version, so that when she was brainstorming it would write down her equations and ideas accurately. And then she kissed him with a passion that made Ron realize that bookworms made the best girlfriends. She'd been reading quite a lot on more...intimate...topics than Arithmancy, he found out that evening. He walked around school the next day with his head in the clouds and an unquenchable grin.  
  
And Draco Malfoy locked his first valentine away in his trunk, and late at night, when no one could see him, took it out, and read the words again, and wept.  
Author's Notes: Challenge ingredients were as follows: heart-shaped box of chocolates, pizza and beer, a singing valentine, Draco trying to ignore the festivities then getting happy when he recieves a valentine, objects made heart-shaped that shouldn't ever be heart-shaped, valentine-flavor-themed every flavor beans, and the fat lady dressed in pink and red. 


End file.
